Memories
by GreenWood Elf
Summary: After Dumbledore’s funeral Lupin is forced to confront his old love and relive a painful past. Oneshot sequel to Grief. RLNT RLOC


**Author's Note: **Hello and welcome to the sequel of my first Harry Potter one-shot "Grief." I received such kind reviews that I decided to write this piece, though until I finish some of my other fics this one will have to remain a one-shot series. This story takes place entirely from Lupin's point of view and a name has been given to the otherwise nameless scorned lover. Feedback is highly appreciated. I hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the Harry Potter books. They belong only to J.K. Rowling, except for Boadicea who is mine.

**Summary: **After Dumbledore's funeral Lupin is forced to confront his old love and relive a painful past.

**Memories**

I normally disliked my memories, even loathed them to a certain extent. When the world is a blur between the pain of transformation and the dull listlessness that follows, one tends to avoid reminiscing. But now I had come upon a queer thing, a moment, a brief space of time that I should perhaps cherish, though it took place under the saddest of circumstances. And as she slipped her slightly sweaty palm into my callused hand I breathed in the forgotten scent of a bitter sweet life. Tonks smiled from beside me, a gesture so perfectly displaying both grief and hope that I felt my heart swell.

"Want to go for a walk?" she mumbled the question, eyes squinting in the strong light of the sun.

"Yes." My own voice was soft, curbed by the solemnity of the occasion and mixed emotions. The funeral was over, the gathering of witches and wizards dispersing on the fringes of the grounds like black flowers scattered by a gust of hearty wind. She rose slowly, pulling me to my feet as well. The immeasurable weight of woe had settled unkindly about my shoulders these past few days. Though now with her still slightly sweaty palm tucked into mine, it began to ebb away.

We strolled around the lake as many had taken to doing. Tonks kept her silence, strange for her. I enjoyed the beguiling serenity, the gentle breezes that stirred across the glassy surface of water ruffling her pink hair. The minutes wore on, as time is prone to do. Even the greatest of wizards is heedless against time and the memories it brings, like poison that infects the mind in the darkest hours of the night.

I let my eyes travel over the grounds, taking care to pull them away when they reached the white marble tomb. But oh…. It was as if my limbs were frozen, succumbing to a sudden stunning charm. Did I dare believe my lying eyes? Could it be? I thought it impossible, as impossible for Dumbledore to rise up and shake off the dust of the dead. I stared, gaze fixed to that spot just opposite me on the other side of the lake. That small form, even dimmed by the space of distance, a second breeze blew teasing her auburn hair. Was it her?

"Remus?" Tonks stopped too, following my glance to that seemingly unreachable shore. "Remus what is it?" I struggled to find an answer, but there were some things I could not begin to explain, even to her.

"An old friend," I managed, the words sounding clumsy on my lips. The girl opposite us stood there staring, I knew she saw me.

"Who?"

"A girl I knew long ago." Oh she was just a girl then and still now as I recall.

"Shouldn't we go say hi?"

"I'll go." It would be unwise for Tonks to accompany me, this girl was shy. At least she had been when I knew her.

"Oh okay, if you're sure."

"I'm sure." I had never been so sure of something in my life. "I'll be back soon, wait here for me."

I let go of her hand, the comforting pressure of it disappearing. Now I was alone, the normality of my existence. Except for that time with that girl, so long ago it seemed. With willful determination I made my way to that far off shore, the figure on its banks remaining stationary. She wouldn't make things easy for me, she never did. As I drew closer I began to take in every aspect of her form. The elegant black robes, embroidered with silver swirls and knots, her parents were wealthy, not surprisingly. Pure bloods often were and she, well, she was definitely pureblood. Her family line traced back to the ancient Celts of Ireland and Britain if I remember correctly. Yes they said her mother possessed the spitting image of Queen Maeve, though her daughter took after a Briton, owing to her infamous name….Boadicea.

Boadicea, a fierce name for a fierce woman. But the girl that stood before me carried not an ounce of ferocity in her petite body. Not that I knew of anyhow. Features always set in gentle impassivity, those delicate hazel eyes. Her hair happened to be the only exception, long and wild. I don't think she ever suffered it to be cut and never sought to tie it back. And now I see that cuff bracelet I gave her for her twentieth birthday. Is it seven years ago already?

She does not seem to notice my approach, or perhaps she does with every fiber of her being but refuses to acknowledge it. She can be wickedly stubborn.

"Dia?" It felt only appropriate to call her by her nickname and as it slipped past my tongue the thought of Tonks and her own battles with her name resounded in my mind.

"Remus." The girl nodded, still not turning to face me. Her eyes remained fixed on the opposite shore where Tonks absentmindedly kicked about a few loose stones.

"I didn't expect to see you here."

"Of course, it is a far journey from Ireland, but some journeys are worth the trouble." Her voice sounded cold, laced with a decidedly bitter tone.

I edged cautiously about her. "How have you been?"

"Terrible. You?"

"His passing is difficult for all of us."

"I heard about Sirius, you have my condolences."

"Thank you." How does one simply pick up a casual conversation after such sorrow? I found myself struggling through it. Her face was ashen white, I quickly noticed. "You are not well, Boadicea."

"Using my full name now are you?"

I ignored her steely comment and pressed on. "What troubles you?"

"Nothing worthy of making note of."

"Don't be foolish," I chided, though I suppose I didn't have the right to scold. "I have known you for so long. I can tell when something is amiss. I even know about how you were terrified to cross onto Platform 9 and ¾ in your first year because the body of your namesake is said to rest there."

"Stop it Remus." It was a warning, a warning I did not heed.

"You told me you still got goose bumps even in your seventh year."

"Please Remus!" Sobs cloaked her words.

"Forgive me." I watched as she fought to collect herself.

"I bet you told her the same thing, didn't you? Too old, too poor, too dangerous!" she spat.

"Boadicea…"

"But what makes her different from me?" My heart twisted painfully at these words. Silence fell between us. Tonks still stood across the lake, unaware of the turmoil that now plagued me. "I love you Remus," she spoke finally, my thoughts reeling.

"Those times have passed," I replied slowly.

"Not for me they haven't." Tears slid thickly down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry." What else could I say?

"I love you Remus," she repeated once more, so terribly.

"I know." I laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But it is over now."

"I still have the memory." She wiped furiously at the cascading tears.

"Yes." I lifted my hand from her shoulder and turned to go. "But it is just that, a memory."

**Author's Note: **Just a little note, the real Boadicea was the warrior queen of the Iceni tribe in ancient Britain who revolted against Roman rule. Her body is said to lay between platforms 9 and 10 in Kings Cross Station in London. Thanks for reading!


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